


if marriage is a dance, ours is a villainous tango

by origicat (kopycat_101)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Future, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Breeding, Butterfly Marc Anciel, Clothing Kink, Cock Tease, Cowgirl Position, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Enthusiastic Consent, Explicit Consent, Fluff and Smut, Future Fic, Gay Character, Gay Marc Anciel, Gay Sex, Grinding, Idiots in Love, Lace Panties, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Married Couple, Married Life, Married Sex, Miraculous Holder Marc Anciel, Miraculous Holder Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Nath and Marc are adults in their 20's and married, No Kwami were harmed in the making of this smut fic, Oral Sex, Peacock Nathaniel Kurtzberg, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Riding, Shameless Smut, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26635984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kopycat_101/pseuds/origicat
Summary: Nathaniel and Marc Anciel-Kurtzberg lead busy lives. Balancing their comic, raising two kids, and pretending to be Paris’ next supervillains keeps their schedules packed full.But with their kids away at school and slated to be watched by some of their friends, well…The two finally have some time to themselves. And Marc certainly seems to have a plan on how to spend it.
Relationships: Marc Anciel/Nathaniel Kurtzberg
Comments: 17
Kudos: 49





	if marriage is a dance, ours is a villainous tango

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ZxshadowxZ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZxshadowxZ/gifts), [christallized](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christallized/gifts), [Mnoeln](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnoeln/gifts), [Mpuppy5885](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mpuppy5885/gifts), [kiwibon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiwibon/gifts).



> Some of my other friends were writing smut, and I decided, hey. Why not. I need practice writing smut anyways.
> 
> Thanks to my friends, who are enablers and the most awful and amazing people I know.
> 
> Final notes, this fic is an AU where Marc and Nathaniel get the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous and act as villains to get inspiration for their comics. More info on that at the authors notes in the bottom.
> 
> Hope you all enjoy! The first 2k is rather light, but after that is pure smut.

* * *

Nathaniel jolts awake, staring unblinkingly at the clock next to the bedside bureau.

Five full seconds passed, before his brain processed the time. “Fuck,” he mutters, trying to sit up, only to be weighed down by his husband. He huffs, shaking Marc’s shoulder. “Babe. Babe, it’s eight.”

“Mmmm,” the other man grumbles. “Too early.”

“We need to get the kids to school,” Nathaniel sighs, passing a hand through his hair and yanking at the overgrown strands. He should get a haircut. But Marc likes that his hair is long…Hm. Decisions.

Marc yawns loudly. “Darlin’, the kids’ll be fine.”

“They have to be at eight-thirty for school, Marc,” Nathaniel reminds, trying to wriggle out of his husband’s hold. Marc only clings tighter. “ _Marc Anciel-Kurtzberg_.”

“ _Nathaniel Anciel-Kurtzberg_ ,” the dark-haired man retorts, blinking his emerald eyes blearily. “I— _yawn_ —I asked Queenie to take ‘em.”

“You left them with _Chloe_?!” the redhead hisses, all but throwing himself off the bed.

“Hey, she’s not that bad!” Marc whines, sitting up in bed and rubbing at his eye adorably. “She owed us a favor, and our princess likes her.”

“Miriam’s already spoiled rotten by us as it is. I don’t want her picking up being a murderous bitch on top of that,” the redhead sighs, yelping when he feels arms wrap around him from behind. He nearly stumbles and falls back right on top of his pesky husband.

“Dear, it’s _fine_. Queenie’s fine. The kids’ll be fine,” Marc sighs, nuzzling against the small of Nathaniel’s back. “Come back to bed, ‘kay?”

The redhead sighs gustily, but settles on the edge of the bed. Marc curls around him like a caterpillar. “You sure they won’t be late?”

“If they are, Chloe can just ask Adrien to cut Sig some slack. And Miriam’s teacher is nice. They’ll be fine, love.”

The anxiety seemed to seep out of his very skin from hearing his husband’s reassuring words. Nathaniel lets out a softer sigh as Marc slowly and lazily peppers wet kisses across his freckled shoulder blades.

“Alright…They can survive for one morning without me,” the redhead mutters, lids fluttering to half-mast from hazy pleasure and sleepiness.

“Mmmm, that’s the spirit,” his husband rumbles, breath hot across his spine. Then Nathaniel is promptly yanked further back into the bed. “Now, _c’mon_. Wanna sleep.”

The artist allows himself to be pulled back into bed, in his needy husband’s arms. Sharing a soft kiss with the love of his life, he feels warm and content and loved. And his eyes drift shut.

* * *

When Nathaniel wakes up again, it’s past noon. He hasn’t had such a good night’s worth of sleep in…a while.

“I haven’t slept this well in a while,” he admits aloud, almost wonderingly.

Ever since him and Marc tried to further their comic careers by becoming mock villains with the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous, gaining both notoriety and inspiration for their comic, they’ve been exceedingly busy. And then on top of that, they adopted two kids. While trying to parent the two as pseudo-villains.

Their life was…complicated. And it doesn’t seem to become any less complicated any time soon.

While Nathaniel wondered about the events that led to his exceedingly complicated life as he slowly woke up, his husband was as perky and fresh as a goddamn daisy, all but twirling across their bedroom.

“I always tell you that you need to sleep, dear. You need your beauty rest just as much as I do,” Marc coos, darting in to teasingly tap Nathaniel on the nose and peck his lips.

Nathaniel sighs, but smiles, allowing his husband to steal a second peck. Then a third. And then soon enough the dark-haired man was straddling the other’s lap, their tongues tangling in a wet kiss, fingers fisting one another’s hair.

“Well, _that’s_ a nice wakeup call,” the artist finds himself saying, smiling crookedly back at the writer.

“It’s nice to have some time for it, right?” Marc purrs, nuzzling his nose against Nathaniel’s jaw, slowly and purposefully rolling his hips against Nathaniel’s growing erection.

The redhead breathes out shakily, his pulse suddenly skyrocketing. Ever since the kids came into the picture, their intimate time has been drastically reduced. This has been the most action he’s seen in, what? Two weeks? Three?

Which is a record, considering just how often they’d fucked when it was just the two of them in their home. Not even Chloe becoming a part of their merry band of quasi-evil misfits and dropping by constantly could stop Marc fucking him like a rabbit in heat. And she’s threatened them countless times that she’d cut off their dicks.

Still hasn’t happened, though. And Nathaniel is exceedingly glad for that.

“We going to go for a morning round, then?” he asks, trying not to sound too eager and pathetically horny.

Marc pulls back, humming and tapping his chin with a finger, green eyes glittering. “Hm…But aren’t you hungry?” the dark-haired man asks innocently, flashing a crooked grin.

“Oh, I’m starving,” Nathaniel says smoothly, slotting his fingers under the material of the other’s underwear, working his hands down Marc’s tight boxer-briefs to grip his ass properly. “It’s a good thing I’ve got a little snack here with me.”

His husband giggles, slapping him on the chest. “I’m the whole damn meal, and you know it.”

“Oh don’t worry, you are. Dessert and all,” the artist chuckles, squeezing and kneading the perky flesh under his fingers. He circles the other’s entrance with his ring finger, feeling the hole pucker. “The most delectable cake I’ve ever eaten.”

Marc grins at him widely, eyes fever-bright and canines gleaming.

They say marriage is like a dance. To be frank, Nathaniel’s always thought theirs was a like a villainous tango. Hot and passionate and fiercely loyal, both of them ready to burn the rest of the world down if that’s what it took.

Nathaniel was never good at dancing, so he always let Marc take the lead. It hasn’t failed him yet.

Marc certainly seemed like he wanted to tango at this moment, and Nathaniel most certainly was ready. He grins back at his husband, pulling the other down and bucking his hips up. Their half-hard erections grind against each other, and he’s delighted at the breathy moan he elicits from those pink, plump lips.

And then Nathaniel’s stomach rumbles. The redhead flushes, feeling his entire face go hot as his husband breaks down into helpless giggles right on his lap.

“Damnit,” he mumbles, wishing he could curl up in a ball and die.

“Don’t worry, dear. My stomach’s about to riot too,” Marc giggles, leaving a small litany of apologetic kisses on Nathaniel’s face. “Let’s get ourselves some food. Probably brunch, considering the time.”

* * *

The couple migrate to the kitchen in just their underwear and slippers, as if they were a newly married couple all over again.

Marc hums as he pokes his head in the fridge, hips swaying to the beat of whatever punk-rock song he was humming, Nathaniel digging around the cupboards for the pans.

He nearly hits his shin against a bottom cupboard as he realizes something. “Fuck. Shouldn’t Miriam be coming back soon from school?” he asks, feeling his mood and horniness plummet.

Oh well. Opportunity missed.

“Nope,” Marc says, popping the ‘p’. “She’s staying with Mari ‘til dinner.”

The artist blinks back at the writer, feeling as if he misheard something. “Wait. Really?” he asks curiously.

“Mhm,” the dark-haired man hums, stepping back from the fridge with his hands grasping different ingredients, somehow managing to balance it all without dropping anything.

“When did this happen?” Nathaniel can’t help but ask, because he doesn’t exactly remember scheduling Marinette to take their daughter. Did he? Unless it slipped his mind somehow…

“Eh, few days ago,” Marc shrugs, all but dumping the ingredients on the counter. “You up for omelets?”

“Yeah, sure. That’s easy to make,” he nods distractedly. “Is there a specific reason Miriam’s staying with Marinette or…?”

“Our baby wanted to bake with her Grandma Sabine and Grandpa Tom,” Marc shrugs, already plucking up an egg and cracking it into a bowl. “You want the usual?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“I still think it’s weird you eat carrots in your omelets.”

“You literally take three bell peppers in yours, but go off I guess.”

“Bell peppers are at least something popular you put in omelets,” Marc teases, treading their already well-worn debate. The punk liked poking fun at some of the strange food combinations Nathaniel ate to make sure he only ate Kosher dishes, but it was never out of malice.

The two fall into a comfortable and familiar rhythm, Nathaniel heating and readying the skillet and plates, Marc whisking eggs.

“So…Miriam won’t be back until evening, then? Is that right?” the redhead asks for clarification.

“That’s right,” Marc nods, passing Nathaniel the bowl with his vegetarian omelet ready. Nathaniel pours the batch on the hot skillet, trying to put his attention to the food.

“Looks like we’ve got until four or so, when Sig comes back, huh…?” the artist muses as casually as possible, glancing back at his husband.

The dark-haired man simply hums, back turned and busy whisking eggs for his own omelet. “Sig’s hanging out with Adrien’s boy after school today. Seemed very excited about playing video games with Robin. He probably won’t be back until dinner either,” Marc says lightly.

Nathaniel pauses, watching his husband’s back intently for all of ten seconds, before remembering to plate his omelet.

By the time he’s turning around, Marc’s handing him the bowl again, eyes gleaming impishly. “Is that so…?” the artist manages to rasp, while his greatest muse smiles back with an expression that’s innocent, if not for the eyes.

Those emerald depths told a story all on their own.

Nathaniel finds himself gulping as Marc leans in close. “Let’s enjoy that free time, hm?” the dark-haired man singsongs with a wink. “But first, we need food to give us energy to enjoy it.”

* * *

Nathaniel was slowly going insane.

He wanted to abandon the dirtied dishes created from their brunch, but Marc insisted they wash them.

“We can’t leave things unfinished and _dirty_ , now, can we?” the writer says, innocent voice contrasting with his bedroom eyes. “We don’t live in a _barn_ , darling.”

So they cleaned up. Did the dishes. All the while Nathaniel was sporting an erection at half-mast because Marc kept draping himself over Nathaniel’s back while cleaning.

It took all of Nathaniel’s willpower not to accidentally drop a plate or cut himself with a knife or something. But the dishes were done, the counters were cleaned, and Nathaniel was grabbing his husband by the hips and reeling him in for an open-mouthed kiss.

“We should probably brush our teeth,” Marc notes when they part.

“We _just_ ate,” the redhead says, exasperated, almost whining.

“Exactly. We just ate, so we’ll be tasting eggs and carrots and shit while we bang. And I’d rather have a clean taste palette, or else it’ll feel like I’m eating eggs off your tits or something,” Marc snickers.

“Hot,” Nathaniel snorts. The mental image of a half-naked Marc posing cheekily on the bed with sunny-side-up eggs over his nipples flashed in his mind. It was both comical and surprisingly arousing.

Christ. Does he actually have a food fetish? Or is this just another instance of “anything Marc does is hot”…? Who knows. It was always hard to tell.

So the couple go and brush their teeth together, standing side-by-side in their bathroom. A strangely domestic scene. Though the air felt charged.

Nathaniel was half-convinced his husband was going to bodily drag him into the bedroom. Hell, that was the insinuation, when Marc drags him out of the bathroom. But then they passed the bedroom completely and were going down to the study and _why_?

“Just be patient, my love,” Marc giggles, looking over his shoulder and no doubt catching Nathaniel’s confused and hornily restless expression.

“Nooroo! Duusu!” the dark-haired man trills, all but kicking in the door of the study. “We need to get transforming!”

“We’re doing that _today_?” Nathaniel can’t help but ask, completely taken aback.

The two Kwami float towards them, carrying their Miraculous items. Nooroo looks awkwardly nervous, and Dusuu long-suffering—which, rude, but also fair.

“Marc. Marc, what are we—”

“Shhhh,” the writer says, placing a finger against the artist’s lips to quiet him. “Just take Duusu and the brooch and transform, then head to our room.”

Duusu looks like they want to commit seppuku. “I see…Well, if I block you out through the connection, at least I won’t hear you two go at it…”

Marc makes a shooing motion, and Nathaniel sighs. Already used to indulging his husband, he grabs the brooch from the Peacock Kwami and heads back to their room.

Once inside, he considers…If Marc and him are going to go at it…Why not have some fun with the costume? “Duusu, spread my feathers.”

Nathaniel closes his eyes and concentrates, opening them and facing the full-length mirror in the room when he feels the weight of Duusu’s power settle on his shoulders, the brooch turning into a clunky bracelet on his wrist.

He looks at himself in a dark navy-blue suit with flower embroidery, bordered by black satin, and a black button-down. The suit pants were black slacks that held a gradient into navy-blue towards the bottom. The pants were snug and showed off his ass and thighs, like his favorite pair of jeans he owned.

Or, technically, Marc’s favorite pair. Considering Nathaniel was a bit self-conscious of his thicker thighs, but his husband loved when he showed them off, which really boosted his own confidence.

Hair tied back in a short ponytail with a ribbon, and that was that. Altogether, he looks hot.

If Marc kept putting off their raunchy sex because he wanted to be a tease…Maybe Nathaniel can convince him otherwise through seduction…

At least, that’s what Nathaniel’s original plan was…Until his husband struts into their bedroom looking like both an angel ready to ascend to Heaven and a devil ready to pull him straight into Hell.

Marc was in a lilac dress. The bust of it was low on his chest, barely held up by thin straps. The bodice was made of white lace and embroidery, leading to a flowing and gauzy skirt that draped over the front and had steep cuts straight up his hips. The bottom of the bodice looked like it doubled as a garter belt, holding up sheer lilac stockings on Marc’s tanned and toned legs.

And to top it all off, a bit of white lace panties was peeking out of the gauzy skirt. _Fuck_ , Marc was a beautiful sight. Utterly _breathtaking_.

Nathaniel wanted to mark up every inch of his husband’s skin, swallow him whole until he drowns in his scent and sweat and body.

“My my, you look _steamy_ ,” Marc purrs, sashaying forwards, heels clicking audibly against the floor. Jesus Christ, Marc always looked amazing in heels, but this? This is another level altogether. “Seems like you’re getting a little hot under the collar, darling. Why don’t I help you shed some of those layers you’re wearing?”

“That’s the plan,” he rasps back, already unbuttoning his cufflinks.

* * *

The suit jacket goes first, thrown uncaringly to the floor while Nathaniel toes his shoes off. Marc tries to unbutton his black dress shirt, kissing and licking and biting when each button exposes more skin.

But then his husband’s hands inevitably wander. Nathaniel’s breath hitches as his ass is grabbed and fondled. “Your ass and thighs look _delicious_ in these,” Marc breathes into his ear, before biting it. “Fuck, you look so good.”

“So do you,” the redhead manages to say, trailing his hands slowly down his husband’s thighs, enjoying the way the sheer fabric of the stockings catch and skip against his fingers. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Like an angel.”

“After I’m done with you, I don’t think God will let me back into Heaven,” the dark-haired man croons.

“Then I’ll have you all to myself,” Nathaniel chuckles, rubbing a thumb across the exposed flesh of Marc’s hip, following the band of the lacy panties.

The writer finally pulls back from groping Nathaniel’s clothed ass to work on the buttons of the dress shirt. The article is tossed aside randomly as the item before it.

Nathaniel steps around his husband, grabbing him from behind. He presses his body close, kissing across the back of the other’s shoulders. The dark-haired man giggles, shifting his neck aside to let him have more access.

As he sucks a bruise on his husband’s neck, Nathaniel finds one of his hands wandering down the other’s hip. Only to be grabbed by Marc, who tuts back at him. “Don’t dive into undoing all my hard work just yet, darling.”

The artist fingers the cute little garter belt strap. “When you’re all wrapped up like a present, I can’t resist.”

In retaliation, the redhead grabs his husband’s other hand, before he can decide to get any bright ideas. Marc just lets out a breathless laugh. “You’ve trapped me. What’ll you do with me now?” the dark-haired man teases.

“I’ve got a few ideas.”

And then Nathaniel is hauling his husband in his arms. Marc squeals, a delighted and surprised sound, as he’s being carried and gently placed on their bed.

“Are you going to ravage me already?” his cheeky minx of a husband asks, batting his long lashes innocently.

“I’m going to taste every inch of your skin first. Can’t go rushing when I’m eating a gourmet meal,” the redhead smirks back. He dives in to nip at Marc’s jaw, carefully shifting aside the butterfly choker to suck on Marc’s pulse point, before he’s trailing his teeth down the tanned line of Marc’s neck and lapping at his collarbones.

His husband hums and mewls all the while, hands over Nathaniel’s shoulders at first, quickly migrating south to knead at Nathaniel’s ass again.

The artist is glad they have time for this, for him to give every inch of his husband’s skin a taste.

Sure, them fucking fast and raw was always an amazing and passionate affair. But Nathaniel was the type to appreciate art and stare at a masterpiece for minutes—even hours—at a time. And Marc was most certainly a masterpiece.

Splayed out under him, dark hair slowly unravelling from its elegant updo, tanned cheeks covered in a blush and skin slick with sweat and Nathaniel’s own sloppy kisses…Lilac fabric and lace, straps sliding down the shoulders and bodice nearly slipping down completely to flash perky nipples on a heaving chest…Gauzy material sliding off tanned legs and trailing off the bed, barely covered by the sheer stockings and garter belt, erection tenting white lace panties…

“Gorgeous. Wonderful. Amazing.” Nathaniel whispers these words of praise and more, as he slides his fingertips over exposed skin, mouth nipping and licking and kissing. Marc hums, shifting his legs and biting his lip. The hum turns into a whine when the redhead takes one of his nipples in his mouth, lavishing it with attention from his tongue until it’s flushed deeply, before moving onto the next.

Marc shifts again, nearly locking his knees together when Nathaniel breathes in his ear, “You should wear more lingerie. It looks great on you.”

“D-Does it?” the dark-haired man asks, voice hitching even as he tries to go for casual.

“Mmm. I just wanna hold you down and lick you through those little lacy panties you’re wearing right now ‘til you cum.” He feels Marc shudder under him.

“What are you waiting for, then?” his husband asks—nearly demands. Nathaniel smirks down at the annoyed glare on the other’s face, not intimidating whatsoever by the flush flooding his cheeks. “If you’re planning on making me cum, do it already.”

“Weren’t you the one teasing me and dragging things out earlier…?” he asks cheekily, lightly tracing the other’s erection with a finger. He feels the hot member twitch under his touch, rather satisfyingly.

“Which was obviously a bad choice on my end,” Marc grumbles with a pout, squeezing Nathaniel’s ass. “And you’re still wearing these! Get them off. I want to feel your actual ass in my hands.”

Nathaniel cocks a brow. “I have plenty of skin up here,” he gestures his to abdomen. “But don’t worry, I’m on it.”

He leans back, straddling the other’s lap. Marc is eager in helping him unbuckle and unzip. Nathaniel needs to get off the bed to actually properly shuck his pants off, and by then, he decides he might as well do away with his underwear too.

Marc’s splayed out on the bed like a model, dark tresses spilling across the pillow and dress just barely in place, looking over at him. The dark-haired man gives a long pass over Nathaniel, slow and heated, all but fucking him with his gaze.

The redhead can’t help but straighten, feeling his confidence boost at just how appreciative and riveted his husband stares at his bare body. As if this was all a completely new sight, and not something he’s seen dozens of times before.

“ _Fuck_ , I want you in me,” Marc rasps, rubbing his thighs together. He extends a hand towards the artist. “C’mere, darling.” Nathaniel nears, and Marc wastes no time in grasping his circumcised cock, giving a few appreciative and slow strokes from base to tip.

“I’m still not done with you,” Nathaniel reminds, trying to go for patient.

“Then you better get done soon, or I might just shove myself on your cock already.”

Nathaniel climbs back on the bed, pinning his husband’s wrists against the headboard with one hand.

“You’re the one that wanted to take it slow, so I’m taking it slow,” he reminds, enjoying the bratty pout on the other’s lips.

“It was funny, okay?” Marc huffs as Nathaniel drags his teeth down the bare parts of his left thigh that wasn’t covered in the stockings. “A-and you’re extra cute when you’re flustered and horny.”

He hums against the other’s skin, unclipping the garter belt with his teeth, hearing the audible hitch of breath. “That so?”

“Yeah. When you don’t know what to do or—” Marc goes on, almost trying to lock his knees together again, only to be stopped by Nathaniel forcing them apart and pinning one of his legs open. “Or how to act.”

Second garter belt undone.

“But honestly, this is cruel,” the dark-haired man goes on, his voice slowly getting more frenzied. Nathaniel simply hums, nosing at the gauzy fabric still covering most of the other’s bulge. “C-Cruel and unusual punishment. I don’t drag things out that much with you, do I?”

The redhead smirks. He’s sure Marc can feel it against the smooth flesh of his inner thigh.

“Nath, I just want you to fu—UCK ME—” Marc gasps when Nathaniel starts to lick him through his panties with firm strokes. Just like Nathaniel had promised earlier.

The writer tries to buck his hips up, but Nathaniel barely manages to hold him down. He lets go of Marc’s wrists, instantly feeling the other’s fingers run through his hair while he grips Marc’s hips with both hands.

Nathaniel makes sure to lavish the panties with his tongue, wetting the white material until it was just about see-through. The other man keens when Nathaniel starts suckling the barely covered cock, the thinnest layer of lace between him having his tongue on the other’s hot, throbbing length.

“Fuck—Nath—baby, _please_ ,” Marc manages to bite out, voice jumping high as he all but shoves Nathaniel’s face down against his crotch. The artist barely manages to shift the other’s panties slightly to the side, salty-sweet skin hitting his tongue, when his husband comes with a cry.

It’s a messy affair, sticky hot cum coating the inside of the panties, some landing on Nath’s lips and splattering on his cheek. He doesn’t really mind it, trying to lap up as much as he can while his husband spasms and moans under him.

The dark-haired man pants, open-mouthed and hard. The other hums, moving the sheer material around to help mop up some of the seed, before pulling it as down and far away as possible, wanting to see the covered member in its natural glory

Marc’s softening cock glistens with sweat and a thin smearing of his own cum. The sight makes Nathaniel’s cock pulse, but he keeps himself in check.

He can’t spill his load just yet. He wants to do that in his husband’s hot, tight hole. Spill all of the seed building up from so long spent teasing and holding himself back.

* * *

The redhead helps his husband out of his dirtied underwear, nearly having to manhandle the other’s legs, which have gone lax and boneless.

“G-Gimme a minute,” Marc pants out, emerald eyes hazy from lust and post-orgasmic bliss. “Th-then you can—can finally fuck me.”

“Take your time,” Nathaniel sooths, re-arranging the other’s limbs. He leans up to brush away sweaty strands of hair from the other man’s face—raven-black strands that have long since fallen out of the neat updo from before.

He stands up and makes his way to the drawers to grab some lube and condoms. The Miraculous protects them both from disease and injury, so they really don’t need to use condoms or even do much prep before fucking, but old habits die hard. And if his husband decides they need these things, he’ll gladly accommodate.

When he returns to the bed, he can’t stop but stare at his husband. Even sweaty and disheveled, he looks like an angel. Especially with the way his lashes are fluttered close, stark against his flushed cheekbones, lips slick and kiss-bitten red.

Nathaniel goes back on the bed, careful that he doesn’t jostle his lover too much. He leaves soft kisses against the other’s thighs, down past the knee, where the stockings had rolled down in the heat of things.

By the time he’s lovingly kissed both of his husband’s perfectly toned and tanned legs, he looks up to find Marc’s cock already at half-mast.

“You’re such a sap,” Marc sighs, reaching down and carefully threading a hand through his fire-bright locks.

“You love it,” Nathaniel counters softly with a crooked grin.

“I do,” Marc agrees with a warm smile, before the expression turns wide and crooked in his mouth, now a smirk. “It’s pretty damn hot, actually.”

“Good to know,” the redhead snickers, leaving one last kiss against the other’s tantalizing inner thigh. “How do you want—”

Before he can finish, the artist finds himself with his back pressed against the mattress, his husband straddling him with an impish expression. “Told you earlier, right? I want to shove myself on your cock,” Marc states glibly, emerald eyes glimmering and smile toothy. He looks ready to devour Nathaniel whole.

“Then be my guest,” Nathaniel offers, just a touch breathless.

“Gladly.”

* * *

Nathaniel had always thought Marc should go into modelling.

Marc was a naturally very gorgeous man. Heart-shaped face, button nose, plump lips, long lashes, and perfectly feathery hair that most models probably took forever at a hair salon to achieve.

The writer never did any modelling, outside of wearing the occasional design for Marinette. The thought still stands, though. Marc would make an amazing model.

Then again, like this, Nathaniel gets to see all of Marc. Gets to see all his sides, see him as a complete mess, and see how beautiful he is no matter his state.

Right now, balanced on top of Nathaniel’s lap with his long hair spilling out of its updo and covered in sweat? He looks beyond gorgeous. The image he makes is something that Nathaniel wanted to capture forever in a photograph. For now, his mind and memory would have to do.

Marc reaches down and lightly strokes Nathaniel’s circumcised cock, which was painfully hard, grinning wildly all the while.

“Seems like you’re already roaring to go,” he purrs, emerald eyes half-lidded.

“I am. How ‘bout you?” Nathaniel asks, rubbing his hands up and down the other’s bare thighs, nails skimming the flesh and raising goosebumps. “I got the lube and condoms, in case.”

“Won’t need a condom,” the dark-haired man states glibly. “Want to feel all of you in me. Feel it when you fuck your cum in me.”

He finds himself smirking. “Good. That was the plan.”

Marc eyes him, a downright filthy expression on his face as he rolls his hips again Nathaniel’s, bare cocks grinding against one another. “Might need that lube, though. I’m not going to get rope burn from fucking without it.”

Nathaniel finds himself laughing at the blunt crassness, slapping a hand on the mattress in the vague direction he left the lube. He fumbles, grasping the bottle, and hands it to his husband.

The writer squirts lube onto his hand, warming it up slightly before he coats himself, then Nathaniel. Then he covers his fingers before he arches back and starts to open himself up.

“Won’t take long,” Marc pants, squinting an eye closed. “Miraculous magic—makes this so much quicker.”

“If the previous Guardians knew how we used the Miraculous, they’d roll in their graves,” he finds himself snorting.

“Better than Condom Face Agreste,” his husband giggles. “Though I guess we have him to thank for our comic.”

“And our current villainy.”

“Yeah, that too.”

Nathaniel shakes his head, feeling fondly exasperated. His husband just cheekily sticks his tongue out at him.

“Alright…Think I’m done.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” the redhead finds himself warning, despite the fact that they’ve done this countless times before.

Marc leans in to kiss him on the lips, dark hair falling in a curtain around them.

“Don’t worry. You won’t hurt me,” the writer says in a startlingly gentle voice, emerald eyes kind.

The redhead’s next words are cut off by Marc slowly lowering himself on Nathaniel’s dick.

“Fuuuuuuck—” the dark-haired man groans out—voice full of pleasure and bliss—while Nathaniel wheezes and grips his hips with spasming fingers.

Marc slides down until he’s seated perfectly on the redhead’s lap, sheathing him all in one go, in one smooth motion.

Nathaniel’s throbbing cock is ensconced in the tight, warm heat of his husband’s hole. It feels just as amazing this time as all the other times. Though the fact that he’s been teased and held out so long is making everything feel heightened, his member throbbing nearly painfully and his sack heavy and heady with cum.

Marc doesn’t give him much time to think. After a few moments, the vixen is raising himself up until just the tip of Nathaniel’s cock was in his ass, before slamming himself back down.

Again and again, Marc raises himself until just the tip is in his hole, before dropping down. He gets in the rhythm of slow and long strokes that encased all of Nathaniel’s cock and seemed to hit Marc’s prostrate, if his building wanton moans were any indication. Nathaniel just grips onto his lover’s thighs for dear life, trying to keep himself from coming quickly. But Marc was making it very much hard on him, whining wildly and bouncing himself on Nathaniel’s cock so beautifully.

Fuck, he was such a gorgeous sight to watch. Head thrown back, sweat glistening on his skin, muscles flexing as he fucked himself on the redhead over and over again. He looked wild, like an animal in heat, his mounting moans losing more and more coherency.

Not to mention his ass felt incredible. Every time Marc ground his prostrate against Nathaniel’s cock, his hole would spasm and clench around him. But none of that stopped him, and he kept sliding up and down Nathaniel’s cock without finding any resistant, using the hot member as if it was just any other toy.

“God—fuck—you’re so good. So perfect. Gorgeous,” Nathaniel pants, watching as Marc’s pace stutters and his dick twitches from the praise, abs flexing. “ _Fuck_ , babe. Look at you. You’re amazing. Taking my cock l-like you were made for it.”

“Fuck—fuck, baby, _yes_ ,” the dark-haired man pants, his strokes picking up speed. Instead of them being long and slow, they were faster, shorter, harder. To the point that he was all but grinding and humping Nathaniel’s lap, cock bouncing against the redhead’s lower belly, glistening and oozing pre-come. “Fuck me, _fuck_ , hah…!”

“Yeah—fuck yeah. You deserve a—a good fuck. Look at you. So fucking _perfect_.”

Marc keens. “Yeah—ah— _Nath_ —I-I— _fuck_ …!”

The artist takes the writer’s cock in his hand, finally paying attention to the neglected member, pumping the slippery length with quick strokes. Marc all but _screams_ , his cries reaching a fever pitch, hips stuttering.

“Anh— _Aaaaaaah_!”

Watching Marc’s face morph into that of orgasmic bliss, hearing him lose all ability to string together words with his cries, feeling him clench like a vice around Nathaniel’s cock—it all led to him finally finding his release.

Nathaniel yells as he comes, tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes and cock throbbing as he unloads his cum into his husband’s awaiting hole. It feels like an ocean of it is flowing out of him, feels his cock pulse with each spurt he unloads into Marc’s tight heat.

The redhead grips onto the other’s hips, jerking his own hips up to slam his cock in the writer’s ass. The sounds of flesh meeting flesh resound as Nathaniel’s balls meet Marc’s ass in a frantic pace, the redhead making sure to paint the other’s insides with his cum.

Marc gasps, scrambling to grip onto Nathaniel’s thigh as the artist fucks his cum into his husband, breeding him. The writer whines and moans and whimpers, hips giving spasmic jerks, trying to keep going even when overwhelmed.

“You feel that? Feel me fucking my cum deep inside you?” Nathaniel finds himself panting. His arms flex and strain as he lifts up his husband to spear him on his cock, again and again. Said husband whines, drool leaking out of his mouth, eyes hazy and expression slack jawed, looking completely blissed out.

Nathaniel only stops when he feels Marc swatting his arm three times. He freezes in place, arms quivering, very carefully lowering Marc back down against his chest.

“Mmmmf,” the dark-haired man whimpers as the redhead slowly pulls his softening cock out of his ass.

“You did so good, babe,” the artist breathes, nuzzling his lover’s face. “So good in letting me breed you. So amazing. Thank you.”

Nathaniel makes sure to pepper kisses on his love’s face and hair, running a soothing hand down his back. The other nuzzles close, clinging to him like a koala.

“Jus’—remember th’ time,” Marc slurs out.

The artist does what his husband recommends, looking over at the bedside bureau and craning his neck.

Hm. They’ve still got some time left. A few hours. “Rest a bit, then we can go another round,” he breathes into the other’s ear.

Marc hums against his neck, but Nathaniel can feel the smile there, pressed against the sweaty flesh.

“Gimme a minute.”

* * *

Bless superpowered stamina, honestly.

Nathaniel and Marc managed to get a good three more rounds in before their kids were dropped off. They were cutting it close, barely having time to clean things up and right themselves, but still. They made the most of their time.

It was also a benefit that the Miraculous could heal injuries, or else Marc would _not_ be able to walk at all for the rest of the day, possibly even week.

He can’t wait for them to find more time in their busy schedules to have another go at it.

And maybe next time, he can surprise his beautiful husband with a dress of his own…Hm. Decisions…

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> First, thanks to ZxshadowxZ for making Drama for Cash, the AU that served as a basis for this fic.  
> More info of this AU can be found in the Nathmarc server here: https://discord.gg/M9BWvKY
> 
> Next, thanks again to all my friends and fellow hornybois that went wild when I was posting exerpts of this and encouraged me to post it on ao3.
> 
> Image references for this fic include  
> Nath's suit: https://s3.ap-south-1.amazonaws.com/hsdreams1/pins/2019/07/big/3dcdfb567fc9a55d7d8361fca64f5e08.jpeg  
> Marc's dress: https://64.media.tumblr.com/e6ef4794995c92ff54085e3ea715fbcf/tumblr_psczqtD1ta1rg8b38_1280.jpg  
> And fanart: https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/745841730485485578/758561868322963516/IMG_1099.JPG
> 
> Comments? Concerns? Critiques? Leave them down in the comment section below.


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